I remember standing in the hospital cafeteria and looking out over the interstate.
The rain pelted away at the buildings outside and sheets of water cascaded down the window I stared at.
It was cold outside.
I was numb inside.
This particular day I felt empty and alone.
The cars on the interstate were oblivious to our circumstances. That made me mad.
How could they go on with their life, when my was seemingly falling apart? How could they act as if there was not the most beautiful baby girl struggling for every breath in this very hospital?
Why didn't the world just stop until she got better?
People chattered and laughed all around me.
I didn't hear them.
I only heard the echoes of the doctors' voices.
"Cancer" "Lung Failure" "Kidney problems" "Down Syndrome"
~and most of that was the good news.
The bad news?
"I just don't see how she can make it. Her longs are too small. Her heart is too overworked."
The question that rang through my mind that day was a simple, "why?"
Why would God have that tiny baby girl go through so much pain?
I know He didn't cause it, but why did He allow it?
I walked away from the cafeteria window.
I sat at the table.
I faked a weak smile as my wonderful husband brought the tray of food. A single tear fell from my down my cheek.
We didn't exchange words but our eyes locked and volumes were spoken.
"I'm not feeling so chipper today. My faith has hit rock bottom and I just simply don't like this situation."
He reached over. Grabbed my hand and squeezed.
We ate. More like, we chewed and swallowed.
There may have been silence, but I knew what was happening. Every spiritual being in the place knew also.
My husband, as he chewed and swallowed, was interceding on my behalf.
He asked the Creator of the Universe to strengthen me that moment, to send His Spirit to comfort me, to be the lifter of my head. He asked that the seed of the Word of God that had been planted in my heart bring forth a harvest of faith and hope.
I chewed and swallowed.
To those around us, nothing changed.
We sat in silence.
But, my faith was being lifted. My baby's circumstance had not changed. But the thick cloud of self-pity and suffocating vapor of hopelessness was being lifted.
Trust sprang forward.
I looked toward the window at the rain.
It was time to go see my baby girl.
She was fighting for her life in NICU. ~ But she wouldn't fight alone.
I rushed out the door today to go to our local clothing store.
My baby girl had to have tennis shoes today for PE (not recess anymore, but Physical Education at elementary school!). She put her perfectly good Nikes on before school~ well, she tried to put her perfectly good Nikes on, but she couldn't get her foot in them.
Mom! I have to tennis shoes today for PE!
Okay, I will bring some to the school~ before 10:15 at PE.
Don't have time.
As I drive out of the parking lot with the pretty pink and silver new Nikes beside me, I smile. Just then, I think:
I have a 9 year old little girl who needs tennis shoes for P.E.!!!!
It's one of those "ahaaaaa" moments.
I am so thankful!
God is a good God. My heart breaks for the parents whose children are in the arms of Jesus. All I know is that He is Sovereign. He knows what is best and He is no respecter of persons.
Pray for those that need encouragement today. Lift their names up to the Creator.
Don't let them fight alone.